


Road Trippin'

by safetypin



Category: Alkaline Trio (Band), Blink-182
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mark and Travis own a record label, Roadtrips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2018-11-22 05:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11373294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safetypin/pseuds/safetypin
Summary: On the three year anniversary of his ex, Tom DeLonge, leaving, Mark Hoppus decides it’s time for a change. He takes two week’s vacation from work and hits the road to clear his mind. On the road, he meets someone he never thought he’d see again; another ex boyfriend, Matt Skiba. Turns out, there’s still a spark to the old flame.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you have a better title please tell me this was supposed to be a joke but then I couldn't think of another please help

Three years. It had been three years to the day. He looked down at his watch; 11:30. Thirty minutes to New Year’s Eve. He should be heading back to his motel room. 

He paid his tab and bid the pretty bartender goodnight. She winked at him and told him that if he wanted to stick around an extra 40 minutes, they could have some fun. He begged off, telling her he wasn’t as young as he used to be; he needed the sleep. She didn’t look that disappointed. He couldn’t remember her name.

It was a five minute walk back to the motel. The air was muggy, and the road was falling apart. It seemed like the sort of area the state only paid to pave or fix every ten years. It was that forgotten sort of town, right on the outskirts of the bustle of Vegas. 

The room key was rusted, and the lock itself had seen better days. The motel in general was the same way. The room was musty, it’s carpet looked like it’s better days had seen better. Filled with two full beds, the room was just barely the lower side of crowded. 

His suitcase was on the bed closer to the door. Inside were enough clothes for a week at a time and toiletries. Underneath it all was his passport and two envelopes. One had cash, the other more valuable. He told himself he just needed to check it; see if they were all there. They were. 

The first photo was was of the two of them. He wasn’t going to kid himself; it was probably twenty years old. They were at the beach, somewhere in San Diego, hanging off each other. They looked happy. He couldn’t remember who took the photo. The second photo was of the very man it had been three years since he’d seen. The reason he was in a motel on the outside of Las Vegas, Nevada. Not curled up at home in LA like he should be. 

The phone in his back pocket started ringing. He put the photos back in the envelope, took it out and looked at the screen. _“Travis”_ it read. 

“Hoppus,”

“Where did you end up?” Greetings seemed unnecessary.

“Vegas. I think I’m going to try to go to Chicago.” The idea had come to him at the bar. The bartender hadn’t stopped talking about her heartaches in the windy city.

“Are you going to call anyone there? I’ve got some people you can talk to if you need it.” Travis had been there for him the first time, and three years later, still was sensitive to the issue. He knew he didn’t deserve this friend.

“I’ve got some ideas, but thanks a lot, man. I appreciate it.” It was the truth.

“I won’t press. Just, call me if you need an ear or a ride. I’ll tell everyone you’ll be back the week after next.” He promised. At least, it sounded like a promise.

“I feel a little bad about that; I’m the boss, I shouldn’t just run off when I feel like shit.” He sat down on his bed, rubbing his free hand over his forehead. 

“I own half that place too, man, and as your co-boss, I say do it. Get it out of your system. It’s about time you did a little self-searching.” He said with a small laugh. Their record label would be fine without him.

“Thanks, Trav. I really appreciate this, and you holding down the fort over there.” Again, it was the truth. 

“I know, man. Check in every once in a while, would ya? Let me know you’re alive, okay?” He asked.

“I will. Talk to you tomorrow. Bye, Travis.” It was midnight now, New Year’s Eve.

“Night, Mark.” He hung up.

He took off his pants and shoes and pulled the bed covers down. The mattress was too hard, and he could feel the springs on his back. It felt like youth on the road. He didn’t want to think about that. How there used to be someone in the other bed, not his clothes. 

He had vague ideas of who to call in Chicago, but none of them felt right. Most he hadn’t talked to in person for years, and the others he just didn’t want to see. But he needed to stay with someone; he needed a person to see at his destination. 

As he drifted off, a name came to mind. Someone he hadn’t spoken to in a while, but would be happy to see him. Someone he would be happy to see.

_Matt Skiba._


	2. Beaver, Utah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an fyi: There will be no hallucinogens in this fic.

After eating breakfast at the local Denny’s, he figured it was time to pull up a map. The fastest way to Chicago looked like going from Las Vegas to Beaver, Utah; from Beaver to Denver; from Denver to Omaha; and from Omaha to Chicago. On his way to Beaver, he figured he would be better off planning ahead. It would take him three more days of driving to get to Chicago. He made plans to stop at the next supermart he saw to get some food. 

About three towns from Beaver, he pulled into a Walmart parking lot, trying to make a mental list of what he needed. Drinks; he couldn’t keep stopping at fast food places. Granola bars, chips, trail mix, maybe a cooler he could put some some deli sandwiches in. 

After a short tip through the fluorescent lit aisles, he had everything on his list, plus some ice for the cooler, baby wipes, and poptarts. He put six of his twenty four pack of water bottles in the cooler, along with six of a twelve pack of coke bottles. He opened a pack of the poptarts and bit into one; unfrosted blueberry. His uncontested favorite. 

He plugged his phone into the aux cord and hit shuffle. 

_Sing me to sleep…_ Oh, the Smiths. 

He didn’t hit skip as he pulled out of the parking lot. 

His arrival in Beaver two hours later was quiet, like most of his experiences in Utah. It was an unexciting place, full of people just living their lives. He hadn’t been to Beaver in a long time. Not in more than fifteen years. And he’d never been alone. 

But it wasn’t the time to think of that. This trip was for getting his mind off those things, not reminiscing. Making new memories was another goal. As was eating dinner. It was only five o’clock, but all he’d had to eat that day was an omelet and bacon, and some pop tarts for lunch. Food for dinner was his new priority. 

On the same road as a Motel 6 was a Subway, and with nowhere better to go, he decided to stop there before getting a room for the night. After arming himself with a veggie foot long and two bags of sunchips, he drove down the road to get a room. It was going to be a quiet night, he hoped. 

After eating the sandwich and one of the bags of chips, sat on his motel bed, he pulled out his phone.

 **To Travis:** _I’m in Utah._

 **From Travis:** _Have you made plans for Chicago yet?_

 **To Travis:** _Was going to make a call after talking to you._

 **From Travis:** _Who?_

 **To Travis:** _Skiba_

 **From Travis:** _Is that a good idea? What with why you’re doing this and all?_

He looked down at his phone for a minute, was it a good idea, he thought. Maybe not, but Matt was still his friend. He couldn’t just stay at that many hotels, could he?

 **To Travis:** _He’s still my friend. It’ll be fine._

 **From Travis:** _Just be careful man_

 **To Travis:** _I will. I’m going to go call him now._

 **From Travis:** _Tell him I said hello. Night_

 **To Travis:** _I will. Night man._

Closing out of Messages, he opened up his contacts. Matt’s number was under the name Skiba, untouched since the last time they talked. A month after the falling out. It still didn’t feel like three years. 

He looked at the time, 6:00pm. That meant it was 7:00pm in Chicago. Not too late.

He pressed Call.

“Hello,”

“Hey, Matt, it’s Mark.” He greeted.

“Mark, hi. How are you? What’s up?” He sounded surprised. Not audibly annoyed, though.

“I’m doing alright. I’m stopping in Chicago for a bit, I was wondering if we could get together, say hi. It’s been a while, y’know. How are you.” He knew he sounded nostalgic, damn it. He hoped it wouldn’t be too off putting. 

“I’m good, I’m good. I’d love to see you. Where are you staying? When are you getting here? _How_ are you getting here?” He asked. Maybe he was reading too much into his tone, but Matt sounded excited. 

“Driving. I should be there two days from tomorrow. I don’t really know where I’m staying yet.” He didn’t want to come off as a moocher, but he really hoped that Matt would offer a spare bed or a couch. 

“I have a spare bedroom, you could stay there if you want.” He answered quickly. It didn’t matter though, because that sounded perfect. 

“That sounds great, but I wouldn’t want to intrude,” He trailed off. As much as he did want to be in the company of his old friend, he didn’t want to interrupt his life. 

Oh shit, he thought. What if Matt had a partner living with him? No, he reasoned with himself, he probably wouldn’t offer a place if someone else was there. That didn’t fit with the man he knew. 

While thinking, he almost missed what was said next.

“It’s just my dog and I here, and he loves visitors. You’re more than welcome.” It was a like a weight off his chest; but he wasn’t sure why.

“Thank you, then. I can’t wait to see you.” Again with the overly emotional honesty. 

“Me too. It’ll be good to catch up. I’ve missed you. Call me tomorrow, kay?” He didn’t think he should’ve felt so glad to hear that. 

“I’ve missed you too, man.” Try to be casual, yeah, that can’t go wrong. “I’ll talk to you then. Bye.” He toed off his shoes.

“Bye.” 

He pushed himself back on his bed and laid down. What had he gotten himself into?


	3. Beaver, Utah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Motel bedrooms are great places for an existential crisis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Itsssss baaaaacckkkk
> 
> Sorry if this reads like I was high when I wrote it. I wasn't, but I was sleep deprived.

The trip to Denver from Beaver takes 8 hours, 8 and ½ if one counts the coffee stops and bathroom breaks. It’s not the longest he’s spent in the car, but when he lays down on his motel bed, he thinks it might be the numest driving has ever made him. He should be in Chicago in two days. He would see Matt in two days.

Despite warnings from Travis and 36 hours of solitary thinking time, he had yet to consider possible consequences of staying with his ex. He figured it wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but he wasn’t exactly known as the brains of anything, these days. 

He had hoped that he wasn’t going to do anything stupid on this trip, but now it seemed that this choice could be the exact definition of it. He and Matt had dated so long ago, when they were in their twenties. They hadn’t gone out with a bang or a fight, just moved away and grew apart. Perhaps his most casual and mutual break up to date.

Over his microwaveable dinner, he thought about how he’d changed in the years since they dated. How his hair thinned little by little, the small flecks of grey here and there, throughout it. The way he rarely took of his wide-rimmed glasses anymore. All the little ways; the ones that can’t be seen by the unfamiliar eye. The changes in his attitude and mentality. How his jokes are less about dicks and more about dogs.

He thinks about the effect the last three years has had on his life. How he’s happier than he’d been in, oh, fifteen years. Since when he had first been with the ex. Since when he had been with Matt. It had taken the early part of the years since Tom left to find his peace in romantic solitude, but there was something to be said for it. But there was also something to be said about the comforting presence of another person, especially one with whom one was in a romantic relationship with, too. 

He figured he should probably let Travis know he was alive. He through his plastic tray and fork out and grabbed his phone off its charger.

**To Travis:** _I made it to Utah_

**From Travis:** _Glad to know you’re still alive_

**To Travis:** _Yeah yeah. Matt’s gonna let me stay with him once I get to Chicago_

**From Travis:** _Glad you’ve got a plan that worked out for once_

**To Travis:** _Oh fuck you_

**From Travis:** _I’m doing fine thanks ___

**To Travis:** _Good to know. How are the kids?_

**From Travis:** _They’re doing pretty well. Business hasn’t fallen apart without you either_

**To Travis:** _Gee thanks_  
**To Travis:** _I’ll let you go now_

**From Travis:** _Ok dude. Let me know where you’re at tomorrow_

**To Travis:** _Will do_

**From Travis:** _Good. Talk to ya then_

**To Travis:** _Bye_

He sighed as he put his phone back down and chugged half his coke bottle. He couldn’t help but wonder what good choices even were, anymore. Or if they even mattered. It seemed a lot like they didn’t these days.

Was Travis right about staying with Matt maybe not being a good idea? He sure as fuck didn’t know. He didn’t know. What did he know, he thought.

Slapping himself lightly on the face, he moved from the old armchair he was sitting in to the bed. He did know that the reason for this trip was to clear his head. That was really all he needed to know at the moment, he supposed. He got under the scratchy covers. Somehow, the excessively starched motel sheets were a comfort.

He closed his eyes and tried to derail his disparaging train of thought. It wasn’t productive for clearing his mind. Maybe chugging half his coca-cola before trying to fall asleep wasn’t either.

He looked over to the half full bottle across the room. Curse his love for chemical rich sodas. He closed his eyes again. It would be alright; it had to be.

Besides, tomorrow, he was off to Omaha.


End file.
